You Know Where to Find Me
by green-piggy
Summary: Happy Father's Day.


spoilers for the entire main story and **warnings apply for: body horror, body gore, death, unrealism, nightmares, implied vomiting.**

 **skip down to 'Lin and Doug were the only two awake on their level of the barracks' after the second line break if you wanna avoid the really icky stuff. I considered removing it, but for the sadistic readers out there (eg me), I left it in.**

 **lol have fun guys.**

* * *

There was something wrong.

He couldn't put his finger on it, but it was as though someone had plucked him out of the world and had tilted it just a few degrees to the left before placing him back into it. Everything _looked_ right, and everything _seemed_ fine, but there was no ignoring the churning in his gut, the little nagging at his brain that something was horribly, horribly wrong.

"What's wrong?"

Lao snapped his eyes open – had he shut them? Charmaine was staring at him from the kitchen counter, her usually steely eyes lined with concern. Or, at least, that was what he assumed; the glint of her glasses made it difficult to read her face.

"Lao?"

"Nothing," he said on instinct. This was his wife, he had to remind himself. He could tell her. He could. She'd understand.

But… something was wrong.

"C'mon, it's Father's Day," she murmured. She put a hand on her hip, scowling, and that was when the sirens started to wail in Lao's mind. This was wrong this was _wrong_. "Dry up. Chenshi and Doug are waiting for us."

He couldn't remember how he had gotten here. He glanced down; a kitchen stool and a mess of newspapers and magazines scattered all over the table that his elbows were digging into. He sat up straight and couldn't feel his fringe on his face. When he reached a finger up, his nail bumped against glass. He'd worn reading glasses on Earth – on _Earth,_ and Earth was—

This was wrong.

Bony fingers gripped his shoulder; Charmaine had always been skinny, but every inch of her frame was muscle. Her nails dug into his skin. He stood up and knocked back the stool, chest heaving. His hands slammed on the table.

The silence in the room was deafening. The lump in his throat was growing.

She made a disgusted 'hmmph' and put a hand on her hip again. "What is _wrong_ with you?" she snarled in a tone that he had never heard before. She stretched out her hand and wiggled her fingers in a manner that was anything but friendly. "C'mon, Lao," she said softly, her smile not reaching her stony eyes. "We're waiting. _I'm_ waiting."

"I can't," he blurted out, wincing at Charmaine's deepening frown. "I'm – I'm sorry, I really can't—"

"Don't tell me you're all 'depressed' again," she sneered. Her fingers stretched out again. "Honestly, just come _on_."

He took a step to his left. "I'm going to my room. I'll, uh, be down in a bit—"

"Dammit Lao, just come _on_."

Another step, quicker this time. "Not yet—"

Her hand lunged around his and seized tight. Lao squeezed his eyes shut, but instead of being pulled, he felt something running down his hand. Heart sinking with a sickening thump, he opened his eyes and nearly screamed.

It wasn't Charmaine in front of him. It was – something, something fractured and broken with her crumbling face. Her skin was – it was _peeling_ off, oh _God_ , ribbons of flesh that dripped onto his hand. He leapt back and slammed himself into the table, hip aching as Charmaine – the _thing_ , not his wife, not her _God_ no – collapsed upon itself, a heap of dark skin and blue blood and bones. No, they weren't bones; it was metal, and it soon began to rust, bronze shining against the blood and skin. Before he could blink, the pile started to ooze rust, and it was spreading, mingling with everything else until it took on a sickly shade of colour that he couldn't name. He stood there, his entire body numb, feeling oddly disconnected from it all. This wasn't real, this wasn't real, it _couldn't_ be real – she, it, _Charmaine_ , she wasn't a mimeosome, she wasn't—

Then the kitchen door creaked open, and he slammed back into his body all at once; the woodpecker thump of his heart, the sweat on his palms, the heat that ran across him even as he couldn't help but shiver. If Charmaine wasn't human, was he? He didn't know, couldn't know, not unless he ripped open his own flesh to see if he was alive or not.

His fingers itched—

"Papa?

Oh _God_ no—

"Get away Chenshi!" he roared, but a sandal had already flopped against the tile. Her short shock of hair, one that he hadn't seen for – for too long, made every muscle in him freeze. He heard strangled gasps, and it took him a few seconds to realise that it was him. "Chenshi, get _out_!"

It was too late, though, and he was always too late, wasn't he? She was standing in front of it – it, definitely not Charmaine, definitely not his wife – and she wasn't saying a thing.

He stumbled an useless step forward. He thought his legs might buckle, they were shaking that much. "Chenshi—"

"You broke her," she said mildly, as though her mother wasn't lying in front of her in a mess of blood and metal. She turned, slowly, so very slowly, and her face was flat. There was no laughter in her eyes, no grin that showed off her missing teeth. Emptiness was what greeted him, even as she opened her mouth and spoke. "Papa, you broke her."

"C-Chenshi—" His throat clogged up, and he had to force himself to draw ragged breaths from his throat. What was happening what the hell was _happening._ This couldn't be real, this was wrong this was so so wrong—

"I'm not surprised." She tilted her head and looked at him with eyes that no six-year-old should have ever possessed. There was a coldness in them, a coldness that he had seen only when he could bring himself to look in a mirror. It wasn't something he had ever wanted to see on anyone else, much less – much less his _daughter._ "You break everything."

It was as though someone had punched his gut. Lao wheezed and gripped the table so tightly that he could feel his nails ache. He tried to speak, but he couldn't, he _couldn't_.

Something flopped to the floor. Lao brought himself to look at Chenshi and whimpereds. Her right eye was – gone, rolling along the tiles, its dilated brown pupil staring up at nothing. Her foot squished it with a sickening splash, an explosion of blue that sprinkled over her toes. Lao gagged.

"Oh, look," she said mildly. One of her ears drooped down the side of her face. "You broke me too."

Lao lunged forward. His hand brushed her wrist—

And a loud _snap_ echoed in the air. Her hand thumped against the ground. He stumbled back, his chest heaving, and he could feel vomit – nausea, sickness, _everything_ – race up his throat as her entire left arm just – fell off.

Chenshi's right hand brushed absently through her hair. Huge clumps of it came away with each handful, until all that was left was the light shining off what remained of her bald head and a halo of red around her feet, drowning in a sea of blue. Her other arm dropped off and squelched.

Lao clasped a hand over his mouth. If the table wasn't supporting him, he would have been a shaking bundle on the floor.

Chenshi smiled. Her lips were starting to peel off.

"Do you still love me, Papa?"

A beat of silence.

Her smile dropped.

"That's okay," she murmured. With a slow, agonising squelch, the rest of her face started to droop. Her lipless smile widened. "I never loved you. No one did. How could we?"

Lao forced his eyes shut and tried to remember how to breathe. In, out. In. Out. He couldn't, though, not when all he could hear were the terrible sounds of metal groaning and grating and crumpling. There was a loud splash and something wet and icky smacked his leg.

Soon, the only noise was of him struggling for air.

He didn't open his eyes, not until he felt a scaly hand grasp his shoulder.

"You've done a most commendable job," crooned a voice that he had never ever wanted to hear again. He scrambled; his foot caught on a crack in the floor and he fell into the pile of blood and metal. He did scream, then, but his throat was raw and all that came out was a pitiful, desperate cry as flesh dug under his nails. Metal stabbed into his side. He couldn't force himself up; all of the strength had left his legs, his arms, every inch of him. It was as though someone had clamped weights to each individual finger and toe.

More cracks ruptured the ground from all around. Through the corner of his shaking vision, he could see a green liquid bubbling underneath – protoplasma?

No no no no _no_ _NO_ —

"Shall we finish what you have started?" Luxaar slithered closer. Behind him, the world collapsed. It was a blinding white, if he could describe it, but truthfully, there were no words that would be adequate; it was nothing and everything, all at once, something that Lao's brain simply couldn't understand.

He was shaking, and heaving, and trying so hard to push himself up. He couldn't, he couldn't he couldn't he _couldn't_ —

A claw curled around his arm. From underneath one foot, the ground went, and the remains of those – those _monsters_ , not Charmaine and Chenshi not them _not_ _them_ – went tumbling below.

The plasma snarled and bubbled and hissed as metal and blood fell in. The entire world seemed to grind to a halt as it churned, before everything went into an eerie calm. It was almost as though the protoplasma was – waiting.

Waiting for him.

"Destroy them all," Luxaar said, a twisted smile stretching his features wide. "Don't you want them all dead?"

He opened his mouth. The ground cracked open. He didn't speak; he _couldn't_ , not with this dreadful sickness crawling up every inch of skin he had.

"Only a _monster_ would betray his own kind." Luxaar continued. His smile split open his cheeks as the protoplasma licked at his body and pulled him down, further, further, further, into the yawning jaws of destruction.

It reached his neck. A hand flopped out of the green and latched onto Lao's leg. He yelled and scrambled back, somehow having energy enough to kick Luxaar's hand off, but there was something oozing on his skin. He glanced down to his leg turning white, moulted sores of bubbling skin that _screamed_ in pain with every painful pop and crackle.

His foot widened; his breath caught in his throat as the white travelled upwards, stretching muscles wide that left him whimpering in pain.

"Become what you always have been," Luxaar's voice rumbled as the last of him vanished into the protoplasma. His face smiled up at Lao's as the skin started to rupture and melt. It wasn't just Luxaar's face; there were countless faces, and he recognised each and every one, even with their smiles boiling off their skin. Doug, _Lin_ , Elma, Irina, Cross, _Shingo_ —

Lao gasped and slipped as the world suddenly gave way. His fingers gripped to the edges of the cracks, and he screamed, screamed himself raw until his fingers became claws and his chest erupted and there was nothing else to hold onto and he _fell_ —

* * *

Lin and Doug were the only two awake on their level of the barracks; Elma and Cross had headed out to have dinner together with Irina and a few others. Their last mission had been a huge success, and so Sharon had insisted on throwing a huge dinner to celebrate. (Lin also thought that it was totally an excuse to talk to Irina, but she wouldn't say a thing.)

Of course, Lin was too young to drink, and she also had zero interest in said drinking, so she had turned down the offer. Doug was staying with her for the night. He had said something about not having enough money to go out, but she knew that he had just really, _really_ wanted chocolate brownies. The guy had a worse problem with chocolate than anyone she knew.

And, besides, tomorrow was Father's Day. Nagi and Vandham had insisted on holding the holiday, much to Chausson's chagrin. Lin had already given Doug a small tub of expensive cocoa (and had almost gotten crushed to death by the gigantic hug that followed) and now she was preparing something for her other father figure.

The oven dinged. She threw a cloth over her hands despite not _really_ having to worry about getting burned before she opened the door to retrieve the tray. She pulled it out, and let out a sigh of relief upon seeing the fluffy, freshly formed buns that smelled absolutely _divine_. This was just the edible part of her present, although she hadn't actually gotten the usable part, _but_ … she was sure to find something today!

Maybe.

 _Hopefully_.

She was glad that Tatsu was off snoozing somewhere; he probably hadn't moved from where she had last saw him in the Skell hangar, all wrapped up snug and tight in a blanket that Doug had undoubtedly provided. Lao was sleeping in the bedroom, and hopefully he wouldn't wake up before Lin was finished.

Doug picked up a skewer and poked a small hole into one of the buns. He grinned as he pulled it out and gave Lin's hair a ruffle, coating it with flour. She grumbled and was quick to wipe away the mess; he _had_ to have done that on purpose. When she glanced up at him, though, it was impossible to miss the bop of flour on his nose. She giggled.

"What?" Doug smacked his face. "Powder on my face?" Lin continued to laugh, and let out a quiet little snort behind her hand as he flapped about at everywhere but his nose. "There!" He wiped his hands together with a cheeky grin. "It's gotta be gone now, right?"

"Nope!"

Doug sighed and crossed his arms with a little huff. "All right, _all right_. I give up." His smile turned soft. "They look great, Lin. I'm sure he'll love them."

"I sure hope so!" She pumped her fists together. With a careful little hum, she tugged off her apron and left it hanging around her neck. She couldn't help but stroke a finger over the Skell on the front; a gorgeous Verus streaking across the horizon. Doug raised an eyebrow. She raised both of hers at him.

"Good point," he grumbled, yanking at the string around his neck; his body was too broad for it to wrap around his waist comfortably. He patted the 'HOT HARRIER' logo stamped across the front of his apron in brilliant yellow. "Anyway, let's throw the buns into the fridge—"

There was a scream.

As soon as she heard that awful noise, Lin was on her feet, heart pounding, tray clattering against the counter. She turned and _ran_.

Doug had been a split-second faster than her, but it soon mounted into a considerable difference as his long steps left Lin behind. He had the door password keyed in by the time Lin arrived at the bedrooms. He squeezed in through the opening door; Lin followed after him and flipped the light switch on. The previous adrenaline was quickly morphing into a horrible sickness that made her throat tight and her stomach churn.

She heard the bed creak as the lights flickered to life with a quiet hum. Lao's head snapped up to them, a glazed look in his eyes as he stared at a spot beyond their heads. He glanced at them, then looked away, teeth gritting together. His fists were clenched tightly enough that even in the dim light, Lin could see his knuckles going white. He balled them against the knees tight to his chest and refused to look at her or Doug.

The silence was suffocating. Lin gave Doug a look; talk to him, she wanted to say, because she couldn't think of any words that she _could_ say. Doug had his jaw protruding, teeth working together, the only sound in the tiny room. Eventually, he coughed, and it was easy to see how fake his wide smile was.

"What happened, man?"

It was a couple of seconds before Lao's tense reply. "Nothing," he snapped.

Doug's smile stretched further. It reminded Lin of a tear in a piece of paper, widening with each passing second; once it had started it couldn't stop, not until it had ripped completely. "What, saw a bug or something?"

"Huh?" Lin said, eyebrows raised. Bugs? _Bugs?_

"Yeah," came Lao's quiet murmur. Both of their eyes snapped to him as his head turned to the wall away from them. When was the last time he combed his hair, Lin wondered, staring at the mats and tangles that fell over his shoulder. "I saw a bug." His body shook with a mirth laugh. "You know how good I am with them."

There was a bucket next to the bed, one that was kept for Tatsu in case he needed to do business in the middle of the night. A smell wafted from it, a horrible, sickening one that made Lin almost vomit. She stumbled backwards and held a hand over her mouth.

Beside her, Doug's eyes narrowed into slits. "I didn't know bugs made you vomit," he said lightly.

"Bad one."

Doug let out a low growl from deep within his throat. "I swear to God…"

He took a step closer—

There was a _bang_ as Lao smacked his head off the top of the bunk bed. In any other situation, Lin would have laughed, but all she felt now was a knotting concern in her heart as she saw his eyes dart and race over the room.

Doug dropped his hand with a sigh. "Hey, man—"

"Stay there!" Lao snarled. "Just – just don't come any closer." He cleared his throat and wiped a hand over his mouth. "Don't."

"Hey, if you had a nightmare—"

"I told you, it was a _bug_."

Doug frowned and crossed his arms. "Oh, yeah? What did it look like?" His eyes roamed over the room. "Because I don't know about you, but I don't think either me or Lin've seen any bugs in here."

He properly looked at them for the first time, eyes wide. "Lin? She's—" His face tightened as he turned. "Just _leave_ , Doug. Both of you. I'm fine."

"What happened to the bug?"

"Maybe we just missed it," Lin murmured, her hand coming to rest over her heart. "How about we head out and check around?" She tried a smile when Doug looked at her. "I need someone nice and tall to check all of the high places!"

Doug's eyes left her as soon as they had landed on her. "Yeah, I'll be out in a minute. I'll just get a description of this little 'bug', okay?"

"W-well, you know I'm not really a fan of bugs, either." She put her hands on her hips, trying to get his attention. If Lao wanted to be left alone, they should leave him alone; it was as simple as that.

She didn't get why Doug carried on trying to pester him. Hell, when she had nightmares, she always needed some alone time before she got up to cuddle with whoever was out on the lounge, to get over whatever her messed up brain had decided to hurl at her that night. Sometimes it would be Cross, sometimes Elma, sometimes Lao, or whoever else might have been staying over (one time, her and Alexa had spent all night drafting new Skell weapons while laughing at awful soap dramas), and on some rare occasions it would be all of them having a massive blanket party. Those were the best times, when Vandham had to come in and scold them for not sleeping enough, even as he grinned and chuckled at all of their stories.

They all had issues. They all had problems. And if one of them didn't want to talk about it? Well, who were they to try and force someone to do otherwise?

Still, there was a delicate line between not talking about bad stuff, and pretending that it wasn't happening and just letting it get worse and worse. She knew that some of them toed that line very finely, and that one of the worst offenders was sitting right in front of them.

She swallowed and put a hand on Doug's wrist. He yanked it away from her. "H-hey—"

"Go back out, Lin," he said in a low voice. "I'll handle this."

"He's not some kind of animal!"

"What the—" Doug glanced down to her, eyebrows raised. "I never said he was!" he squeaked out, arms spread.

"Yeah? Because you're sure treating him like one!"

"Says who?"

She opened her mouth, but couldn't get any words out. She clenched it shut and crossed her arms, gripping her elbows so tight that she wouldn't be surprised if she drew blood.

She'd never seen this side of Doug; this cruel, harsh side, something unfamiliar and so different from the easy smiles and loud chortles he always had. This Doug's smiles were bitter, cynical, and not a single one made his eyes wrinkle or shine.

She didn't like it.

"Doug, _please_ —"

"Stop it."

They both turned. Lao wasn't looking at them.

"Just go, all right? Both of you."

"I'm not going anywhere," Doug snapped. "And who're you tryin' to convince at this point, Lao? Yourself?" He snorted. "We all know you had a nightmare. This may surprise you, but _most_ people have them. I have them, Lin has them; everyone does. Shocking news, huh?"

Lao stiffened on the bed.

"And do you know what the rest of us do when we have nightmares?" Doug continued, in that sickly-sweet tone that didn't have a single shred of kindness in it. "We talk about them! It helps!"

"You have nightmares?" Lin said, looking up at Doug. She'd never known about them, and that – well, didn't that make Doug a hypocrite?

He sighed, shoulders slumping. "You can ask Elma, she knows all about them." His face stiffened. "Look, my point is – Lao, you're not 'weak' or causin' us any hassle or any crap like that, all right? So just – tell us." He smiled. "Okay?"

Thick silence, before the squeaking of bed springs made them both jump.

"…It was stupid, all right?" Lao muttered. He glanced up to them, somehow managing a weak smile. "Really, it was nothing. Just – go back to what you two were doing."

The sudden _slam_ made both of them jump. Lin flinched at Doug's wide eyes, ablaze with something she had never seen in them before; a desperate kind of anger, of someone who didn't know what else to do, what else they _could_ do. He removed his fist from the table with a hiss.

"Fine, Lao, _fine_!" he snarled. His eyes were shining, and his entire body was shaking – and from how close she was standing, Lin knew that it wasn't from rage. If possible, she felt even sicker than before. "I'm done with this crap. I'm _done_! When you're done acting like you're the only guy who's ever had problems, come and let me know!"

Before Lin could speak, Doug had yanked the bucket from the floor and stormed away from them. Perhaps he would have liked to slam the door shut behind him, but the click of it sliding across behind him was just as bad.

She felt sick. She couldn't stop herself as her eyes roamed over to Lao. He was staring ahead of him, breathing loud and shaky. He let out a gluteal growl – of frustration, anger, defeat, Lin couldn't tell what – and squeezed his eyes shut, arms crossing over his knees.

In a moment of stupidity, she remembered the buns on the counter. They had to be soggy by now; she bit her lip and tried to fight the sudden rush of tears. Nothing ever went right. She knew that that thought wasn't true, but, sometimes, that was what it felt like. She always tried her best, always did her very best to help others, and it was exhausting, and – well, it didn't always work, did it? God, what was even the _point—_

"You okay?"

Her head snapped up to the concerned frown Lao was wearing. She rubbed at her cheek.

"Shouldn't I be asking you that?" she murmured.

Instead of scowling, Lao let out a quiet laugh of his own. He drew his knees closer to his chest. The quilt was damp underneath him; sweat, probably, and it made Lin's heart twist. "True, that."

Before she could regret it, Lin took a tiny step forwards, an inch closer towards the bed. She heard Lao's sharp intake of breath as he snapped back from her. She kept her other foot down.

"Sorry."

"N-no, no, don't apologise." Lao ran a shaky hand over his hair. "Dammit, I just… it's the nightmare, I just." He shrugged a vague hand outwards before dropping it back onto his knee. Seconds passed, then he slammed it against the bed. " _Dammit!"_

"I'm – I'm gonna go sit on the edge of the bed, okay? I'll stay as far away as possible, it's just…" She smiled. "I'm not really much help when I'm this far away."

"Yeah, okay. Yeah. Go for it."

She felt him watching her with hawk eyes as she slowly, so very slowly, sat down on the bed's edge. Despite her speed, it groaned under her weight; the mattress needed replacing, badly.

Lao glanced to her, then to his hand, and sighed. "Gimme a sec," he murmured, and Lin didn't say a thing as he swung his own legs out onto the bed's edge, narrowly missing her own. He bent his back and leaned forward, elbows digging into his knees, arms limp.

She waited. The clock hanging over the door ticked and tocked for what felt like eternity.

"…He was right," Lao muttered. Lin glanced over. He dragged his hands through his hair and gripped his head. "God, I'm sorry, Lin."

"What for?"

"A lot of things."

She sighed. There was no point trying to argue that point, because – well, he _had_ done a lot of bad stuff. Stuff that he shouldn't have done, no matter how upset and angry he had been. Everyone had lost something, two years ago. Friends, family, loved ones.

No one else had attempted to wipe out all of humankind.

…But enough people were punishing him for that, weren't they? There was only some many times you could tell someone that, nope, you weren't getting any help, don't you know how badly you messed everything up?

Lin dug her hands under her legs and allowed them to swing freely. "…If you don't wanna talk about it, that's fine."

She watched him working his jaw before he sighed. "…It wasn't even that bad. I don't really remember it, to be honest." Silence stretched. Lin knew a lie when she heard one, but she didn't dare press. "I think… I think Charmaine and Chenshi were there."

She winced.

"It was all – wrong, I dunno. They were saying stuff they'd never say." He crossed his arms and frowned. "Or maybe it's been that long that I've just – forgotten all of the bad stuff they ever said."

"Lao, I didn't know them, but – I _do_ know that's rubbish."

His head snapped up. "Huh?"

"Nightmares are scary things." She crossed her own arms tight around her knees and rested her chin on them. "Stuff happens in them that you _know_ would never happen in real life."

She still had dreams about the Lifehold. She knew that all of them did. Different ones, yes; Elma had never dreamed of being suffocated to death, not like Lin had, but she _had_ dreamed of being the only person left alive on all of Mira.

Lin glanced up and smiled. "So, really? There's no point takin' them seriously. They're all a load of crap."

Lao chuckled. "Hey, c'mon, don't use that kind of language."

"Oh, come _on_!" She snapped her back up and thumped a fist into the thin mattress. "I think I'm more than allowed to use that word!"

He snorted and sat up straight with a lazy grin. "Someone's been spending too much time around Yelv."

" _Yelv_?" She laughed. "Pfft, please. Have you _heard_ some of the stuff the secretary says?"

"True, true."

Lin slapped her hands against her sides and took a quick glance around the room. Still no bugs. She didn't know why she was surprised by that.

"…So," she eventually murmured. "Do you remember any more of it?"

"Yeah, but…" Lao's voice was tight. "I'd really rather not talk about it."

"Sure. That's completely fine." She couldn't help but sigh, and Lao must have caught the aghast look on her face.

"Hey, it's not like that."

"Hmm?"

"It's just – what you said earlier, right? Nightmares are a load of shit."

"Lao, shit is a _much_ worse word than crap."

"Is it? Is there a scale for bad words?"

She giggled. "You know what I mean! You can't tell me off and then swear yourself!"

"Sorry, I should have warned you to cover your ears."

She rolled her eyes. "Ha _ha_."

"Heh." Lao tilted his head back, a smile widening his face and lightening his puffy eyes.

A long time passed, then—

Lin gasped as a hand gently ruffled her hair. "Anyway, you should go back out," Lao said, hand vanishing as soon as he had put it there. "You cooking something?"

"Heh, you'll find out!"

His eyebrows rose. "Oh, will I?"

"Well, yeah. Tomorrow's Father's Da- _oh_." She winced at the look that tightened Lao's face, made the shadows even deeper than usual. Her eyes caught on the clock again. " _Technically_ , it's, uh, today."

"Yeah." Lao sighed. He ran a shaky hand through his hair. "…Yeah. I worked that one out."

"That it was… it was Father's Day?"

"Yeah." A hand ghosted over her shoulder. "I'll try getting some sleep. Thanks, Lin. The chat really helped."

She smiled. "No problem." She swung herself onto her feet and took a step, then paused and looked over her shoulder. "And, um, if you can't get back to sleep, you can come up. You know where to find me. And Doug!"

Lao shook his head with a wry little smile. "Somehow, I don't think Doug wants to see me."

"Ohhh, he's just stressed and grumpy from working with me all day!" She laced her fingers together and desperately hoped that that was the truth. "He won't mind! And in the extremely unlikely event that he _does_ mind, I'll just kick him back to his own floor of the barracks. He's not the one with a giant shield!"

"And a talking potato."

" _And_ a talking potato. Tatsu is _very_ effective as a battering ram."

"What, have you had experience?"

"Just a few of 'em!"

They smiled at each other. Lin held her hands together, her heart warming. "Anyway. Good night, Lao. Try and have a good sleep."

She took a step—

"Lin, wait."

She turned around again. Lao was on his feet, eyes flickering over the floor, as though he didn't know what to do with himself.

"Something wrong?"

He shook his head.

She tilted her head as his arms did a funny little twitch.

"I – agh." He sighed. "Don't laugh."

"I'm not gonna."

His arms did another jolt. She realised, suddenly, just exactly what it was that he wanted.

"…Hey, do you want a hug?"

Lao glanced away with a sigh. It was several seconds before he gave a minute nod.

His chest was wet and gross, clammy clothes sticking tight, and, to be honest, every part of him was icky. It didn't stop her from wrapping her arms around his chest and hugging as tightly as she could, hoping that she could help, just a little. His arms draped over her shoulders and pulled hard, as though he was terrified that she could shatter if he let go, but she wasn't the one shaking.

She gasped when he rested his head against her shoulder and let out a shuddering sigh, as though he was trying very, very hard not to cry.

She gripped tighter. He was warm, really, when she got used to the damp.

She didn't know how long they stayed like that for. Seconds, maybe, or minutes, perhaps. She stood back when she felt his arms rise. He wasn't glancing at her, eyes shadowed by his fringe; and she'd allow him this little privacy. Sometimes, all anyone needed was a little comfort. A little hug, a few kind words… they could work miracles.

Lin smiled. "Happy Father's Day, Lao."

He looked at her, really looked at her, and then gave her a soft smile, one that made his puffy eyes wrinkle and his entire face light up. "You too, Lin."

"Oh!" She clapped her hands together. "I _was_ meant to wait until morning, but… we made some buns. Your favourite ones."

"My-" His face lit up. "You _didn't_. Lemon?"

"Uh-huh! You wanna have a few?"

He grinned. Lin clicked open the door; Doug was at the kitchen top. In front of him sat four plates, each one with a small bun perched on top. There was an empty bucket in the sink – the same one from earlier, she realised. He turned at the noise and gave her a wavering smile.

She smiled back; it's okay, she wanted to say. It's okay to be human.

He must have read her expression, somehow, because the tension in his shoulders sagged and his smile became soft, his dimples spreading wide. Tatsu was sitting on the counter next to him, swinging his little chubby legs back and forth. He said something that she couldn't hear, but Doug scowled before chuckling and flinging a frazzled blanket over him.

A buzzing drew her attention skyward. An insect whirled around her head before zipping off towards the other end of the barracks. She couldn't help but laugh.

"What's wrong?" Lao asked.

"Nothing," she said, smiling. "Nothing at all."


End file.
